


Something's Gotta Give

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hunt Gone Wrong, Implied Smut, Reader Insert, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15212777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: She's pined for Dean for what feels like forever. When she's bitten by a werewolf, Dean needs to face up to his own feelings. It's the classic unrequited love story.





	Something's Gotta Give

“Where’s Dean?” you asked, shuffling into the library wearing your favorite fluffy socks. The bunker was full of wonders, but heated flooring was not one of them. Sam looked up from his book, briefly glancing at you before looking back down.

“Out. Said something about a bar and a girl or…” He trailed off, looking at you hesitantly, not missing the crestfallen look on your face. “What’s wrong?”

“He forgot,” you murmured, before forcing a smile on your face, despite the stinging tears in your eyes, and you raised your voice to a cheery pitch. “Nothing, I just wondered where he was. Kinda quiet around here.” Sam kept looking at you, and you fidgeted on the spot, nervous at his intense gaze. “I’m gonna go and er, get some food. Do you want pizza? I kinda want pizza -”

“Y/N,” Sam interrupted, and it felt like the blood drained from your face. The younger Winchester got to his feet and walked over, placing his ridiculously giant hands on your upper arms. “He forgot you had something planned. It’s okay to be pissed.”

You shook your head, sniffing and trying to rid yourself of the tears. The forced smile was hurting your face, but you kept it up. “No. It’s okay. I get it.”

“I’ll kick his ass if you want?” Sam offered, and the fake smile became a little bit real. 

“Seriously, it’s okay. I’m just gonna get an early night.” You gave him an earnest look. He didn’t need to know that “early night” actually meant “sobbing while I watch ‘Marley & Me’ and eating a pint of ice cream because I don’t have the balls to tell the guy I love the truth”. 

Sam nodded, rubbing your arm softly before releasing you, and you turned away, shuffling back across the freezing stone floor towards the bedrooms.

By the time Dean came home, you were asleep, the title menu for the Marley & Me Bluray Special Edition repeating over and over on the screen of your tiny television. He opened the door, seeing you asleep and the soggy pint of Cookie Dough on the floor, tilted over on its side with the spoon hanging half out of it.

A soft smile turned his lips as he crept into your room, pulling the covers over you, and picking up the ice cream pint and spoon. You murmured in your sleep but didn’t wake, and Dean continued, turning the television off, before tiptoeing back out of the room.

“You two are driving me crazy, you know that?” Sam grunted from his bedroom door. Dean shut your door slowly, turning to look at his brother.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam sighed, shaking his head as he turned back into his room. “You should tell her, instead of breaking her heart by going out and sniffing around bar girls when she’s waiting at home for you. She was upset last night. You forgot something.”

“Didn’t forget,” Dean muttered, staring intently at the empty ice cream tub in his hands. “I just… look, being alone with her isn’t an option for me right now.”

“Have you told her that?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “And how do I do that, Sam? Huh?” He affected a mockery of his own voice, still avoiding his brother’s gaze. “Sorry, Y/N, I know I said I was your friend but I kinda went and got this really huge thing for you, but I can’t tell you, because we’re hunters and life sucks, and I really don’t wanna watch you die.”

Sam huffed lightly as Dean stared back at your bedroom door. “Wouldn’t phrase it like that,” he suggested. “But something’s gotta give, Dean.”

Green eyes lingered on your door, beyond which you slept peacefully, unaware of the conflict in your friend. He knew about your feelings, but he was determined to keep his under wraps. It was better you didn’t think he'd return them than dare to hope.

Hope got you killed in this life.

“It’s better this way,” Dean whispered.

Sam snorted unattractively. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, yeah? I’m going to bed.” He turned, not waiting for a response, closing his door. Dean stood, alone in the corridor, running through images of happy endings in his head, half of him thinking about throwing caution to the wind.

He didn’t care much for himself.

But he wouldn’t resign you to a fate like loving him. You’d get over it.

*****

The weight on top of you was too much, and you let out a strangled grunt of pain. Teeth were gnawing at your throat, and you thrashed, trying to get the wolf off. His snarls and growls were filling your head, and you stretched out, grabbing a piece of wood lying just within your reach. It wasn’t much, and the angle was all wrong, but you got him in the head, forcing him to relinquish some of his control.

The werewolf reared back, snapping his jaws, and you saw your opportunity, kicking out violently to escape. For a split second, you thought you’d made it, and you could hear Dean coming for you, screaming your name.

Hope was short-lived as the female of the small pack tackled you from behind, jumping onto your back, and striking with fangs bared.

Being bit hurt.

A lot.

Her teeth were buried in the juncture of your collarbone and shoulder, right in the muscle, and the sound you made was piercing. You closed your eyes, watching the end unfold before you, and then… the weight was gone. The first werewolf that attacked you was dead, and the female’s body was torn away from you, revealing Dean, who managed to stab the werewolf in the side.

The creature was cast aside when you started falling. Dean didn’t catch you as your knees gave way, and the crunch of your joints as you hit the solid floor was sickening. Blood was pulsing from the wound on your shoulder slowly, soaking your top, and you felt numb through the pain.

The werewolf took off, throwing herself through a window and disappearing, trailing blood behind her.

“Shit, Y/N!” Dean’s arms were around you, shifting you so he could pick you up, carrying you towards the hall. Sam was in the other room, pulling his blade free of the wolf he’d killed, and his eyes went wide when he saw you bloodied and almost unconscious in his brother’s arms. “Sam!”

The younger Winchester nodded, dashing off ahead of Dean towards the exit. The Impala was parked just outside, and it took all of three minutes for him to get the first aid kit, keeping the back door of the car open so Dean could slide you right in. 

“How deep?” Sam asked, watching Dean cradle you in the backseat. Dean shook his head, indicating that he didn’t know, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness, eyes barely open, and skin ashen with blood loss. “Hospital?”

“They can’t do anything,” Dean muttered, tearing off strips of cloth from an old shirt in the first aid kit, trying to pack the wound on your shoulder. “It’s a bite, Sam. She’s…”

Both of them fell silent, and the only sound in the air was the chirping of birds and the noise of your labored breaths. “The cure,” Sam reminded him. “Did you kill the one that bit her?” Dean shook his head.

“She took off.” 

Sam huffed a happy laugh. “We can make the cure. It worked on Claire.”

“And we don’t know if it’s a cure-all, Sam,” Dean pointed out, cupping your face. “Hey, baby, try and stay awake for me, okay? You die on me, I’ll kick your ass.” His fingers probed at the wound, but the shock had set in and you didn’t react. Pulling the cloth back from the injury, blood and flesh came with it, but to Dean’s dismay, it was already healing.

The curse was already in your blood.

“Dean,” you whimpered, letting your eyes flutter closed. Dean shook you, trying to get a response but you lost consciousness, going limp on the back seat.

“Shit, Sam, we gotta get her back to the motel,” Dean growled out, tossing his keys to Sam and covering your wound. “Drive, dammit.”

The Impala peeled out of the dirt driveway of the crumbled building, heading onto the highway at speed. Sam kept the car as steady as he could, while Dean cleaned up your wound in the backseat, holding you steady. “She okay?”

“No,” Dean snapped back, frowning at the bite mark. “Shit, shit, shit,” he chanted, shaking your shoulders. “Y/N, you gotta wake up.”

Sam pulled the car into the motel parking lot, jumping out to help Dean get you out of the back. As he flung the door open, he was met with Dean holding your shirt to the side, revealing almost perfect skin. His eyes went wide, and he locked gazes with his brother, fear forming a lump that sank like lead into his belly.

“Dean -”

“Get her inside,” Dean barked, unwilling to discuss it with Sam in the middle of the parking lot. Sam nodded sharply, lifting you out from the backseat, carrying you into the room and laying you gentle on the bed, as Dean shut the door and secured the room. “She’s going to turn,” he said, closing the curtains, refusing to look at you.

Your lips parted, and you made a small noise, getting Sam’s attention. He leaned over you, just as you opened your eyes. “Y/N…”

“Sam? What am I -” Realization hit you like a freight train, and your eyes went wide. Scrambling backward from Sam, you frantically tried to check the wound, unable to see or feel anything. “It bit me!” you shrieked, tumbling off of the bed. “It bit me!” Dean and Sam were in front of you, boxing you in, and panic made you lash out. 

“Calm down,” Dean growled, snatching at your arms, pinning you against the wall. Tears were falling freely down your cheeks, and you surrendered, going limp in his hold. His hands held your wrists tightly against your chest, and sought out your attention, making you look at him. “Y/N, you gotta breathe, sweetheart.”

“It bit me,” you whimpered, collapsing into sobs. Dean released your wrists, catching you against his chest.

“Yeah, it bit you,” he whispered, clutching you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. His own eyes were shining with tears, and Sam watched his brother cradle you, slowly moving you back to the bed. You were almost in the fetal position, and as Dean sat down, he grabbed your knees, holding you in his lap. 

No one spoke, and the only sounds in the room were your soft muffled sobs, and Dean’s whispered words of comfort.

Sam stepped back, feeling his own eyes sting with emotion, and he wiped at them, turning away.

Every time he heard Dean say “it’s okay” in that low tone, Sam hoped to hell he wasn’t lying.

*****

“She’s asleep,” Dean murmured, stepping out of the motel room. Sam was sat on the hood of the Impala, going through his journal. He looked up as his brother spoke, closing the book with his finger as a bookmark. “I don’t know how long she’ll be out for, but that bite… it’s completely healed, Sam.”

There was a frown on Sam’s face, and he watched Dean move to sit next to him. The sun was rising over the horizon, filled the sky with pinks and blues. “The curse affects everyone differently. The important thing is to keep her safe and stop her hurting anyone until we can get her back to the bunker and get her the cure.”

“You really think it’ll work another miracle for us?” Dean’s tone was filled with skeptical hope, and Sam sighed, opening the book up again.

“We’ve got the vials we need back at the bunker. We’re gonna have to find the one that bit her -”

“I got a good look at her. And she’s not gonna get far. I stabbed her. With silver.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how deep I got her. We need live blood for the cure, Sam.” He stood up, moving towards the motel room door. “She shouldn’t be alone.”

Sam followed, clutching his journal. You were still asleep on the bed, curled up in your bloody clothing, and you didn’t stir when the boys walked in. “Okay, so I take her back to the bunker, you hunt the wolf.”

Dean turned, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head. “What? No.”

“Dean, you said it. She shouldn’t be alone. What, you wanna chain her to the crappy motel bed and hope it doesn’t break? Or shall we lock her in the trunk?”

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Dean snarled under his breath. “I don’t know! We - we talk to her. She knows this stuff, she’ll understand.”

“Claire didn’t. She changed, the wolf took over.” Sam breathed in deeply, clenching his jaw. “Madison didn’t understand,” he said, firmly punctuating each word with a shake of his fist. “If she kills, she’s lost to us. The only way we do this is by splitting up.”

Dean sighed, turning his eyes to you, knowing that Sam wasn’t lying. “Fine,” he agreed. “Bunker is a two-hour drive. We’ve got all day - I’ll find the wolf, bring her back with me.”

*****

The sun was shining brightly in your eyes as you started to stir, and you squeezed them even tighter against the light, bringing one arm up to shield your eyes. It felt unnaturally bright, and you dragged your body up, curling into a ball.

“Y/N?” 

Sam’s voice made you perk up, and you cracked one eye open to look at him. He was driving, and he was alone in the front seat. “Sam… where’s Dean?”

“He went to catch the werewolf that -”

You sucked in a sharp breath, remembering the bite and the pain and… you could feel it inside you, changing you. What seemed to be the oddest thing was when you realized you knew how far away nightfall was. “I’m going to turn,” you whispered, closing your eyes again.

“Hey, no. No, you’re not, we’re gonna find the wolf and give you the cure, okay?” He was dividing his attention between you and the road, and you shook violently as you pressed yourself further into the corner. “Y/N, you gotta listen to me. We’re gonna be back at the bunker soon, okay? We’ll be home, and everything will be okay.”

“ _ Stop _ saying okay,” you cried out, shaking your head. “It’s not okay!  _ Nothing _ is okay, okay?!” Sam fell silent, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove, and you covered your face with your hands. “The cure isn’t guaranteed. It might not work.” Maybe it would be better that way.

No more fighting. No more unrequited love for your friend who would never look at you that way.

“Don’t talk like that,” Sam breathed, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Just don’t.”

You didn’t say anything, hugging your knees and staring out of the window at the sky. It was early afternoon, and your eyes felt like they were burning in the light. Your blood thrummed through your veins, carrying the virus to every part of your body, twisting and altering your DNA into one of the monsters you’d hunted your entire life.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Sam murmured, more talking to himself than you.

It sounded like a lie.

*****

“I can’t get hold of Dean.” The phone clattered to the table top and you jumped at the sudden sound, shuddering when you looked up at Sam. The other hunter frowned, watching you with concern in those big puppy dog eyes. “Y/N, maybe you should go and lie down. You don’t -”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, your voice a rough growl. “But it’s getting late. If Dean isn’t back soon -”

“He will be,” Sam assured you, but you ground your teeth together and kept talking.

“If he isn’t back soon, we need to chain me up in the dungeon,” you insisted. “I’m gonna be dangerous, Sam. There’s no telling what I’ll do, and I’m… I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting hurt or killed.” You stood up from your chair, clenching your fists at your side. “It’s stupid to wait for the cure. Should have put a bullet in me at the motel.”

Sam scowled, giving you a pointed glare. “Don’t talk like that.”

“I got bit,” you shouted, not bothering to hold back the hot angry tears in your eyes. “I’m a hunter, and I got careless, and I got fucking bitten! I’m the enemy, Sam. I can feel it turning my insides black, making me hungry, and you know what I can’t stop thinking about?” You threw your arms out wide, trying to convey how you were feeling. “How easy it would be to rip your spine out.”

“You’re not thinking that,” he said quietly, getting to his feet. You stood motionless as he drew closer, pulling you into a hug, and your resistance crumbled. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you clung to him like a spider monkey, sobbing into his shirt. “He’ll be back soon.”

You scoffed, wishing you could have faith. “What if the werewolf was dead?” Sam sighed, shrugging. “I guess we wait and find out, right?” He nodded, still holding you. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we please chain me up?” You pulled back, looking up at him with sincerity in your eyes. “I’d feel better if…”

Sam nodded, rubbing your shoulder lightly. “Yeah. You got it.”

*****

There were four vials of blood on the passenger seat of the stolen Nissan Navarro, and Dean was driving it harder than the snot-nosed woman who’d owned it ever had. He wasn’t particularly a fan of stealing cars from little old ladies, but he saw her kick a dog when he walked past her getting out of her car, after parking in a handicap spot without a badge.

Karma was on his side, he thought.

Dean needed as much as he could get right now.

Pushing the car harder, he ignored the speedometer, taking the back roads towards the bunker, and hoping to god he’d make it before dark. He’d taken longer than he thought to track the werewolf - eventually finding her in a barn several miles from the house, half-dead.

She was all dead now, and Dean wished he’d had the time to make her suffer.

He couldn’t lose you. Not after everything. Even if he never got the life with you that he really wanted, he couldn’t imagine living without you there.

The sun was dipping low when he finally pulled into Lebanon, following the familiar roads to the bunker. Sam had left the garage door open, and Dean didn’t bother finding a bay. He left the Impala in the middle and slammed the switch to shut the doors, not waiting to check them before running down the steps into the main bunker.

“Sam!” he bellowed, his feet carrying him through the bunker to the bedrooms, finding them all empty. “Sam!” 

“Down here!” Sam’s voice echoed down the corridor from room 7B - the dungeon. Worry filled him, forcing him faster down the hall until he came to the open door. Sam was sat on a chair, just inside, exhaustion written on his face. “She’s… she wanted to be safe,” he explained, gesturing to the inside of the dungeon. 

Dean peered around, seeing the devil’s trap in the middle, and a cot just beyond. You were sat cross-legged on it, playing on your phone, and you looked up when Dean walked in. “Hey,” you greeted, giving him a weak smile, putting your phone down.

“I found her,” he said, holding out the vials.

Sam stood up, taking them from him, and dashing off out of the room. Dean sucked in a breath, and walked over to you, noticing the chains securing you to the wall by each wrist. You jangled them, huffing a laugh. “Yeah, it’s not a good look on me.”

“I kinda imagined seeing you in chains in a different situation,” he joked, and you arched an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing red, and you giggled. “That was pretty forward, huh?”

“You don’t think it’s going to work,” you commented, fixing your eyes on his. Dean didn’t reply, but you knew what he was thinking. “If… if it doesn’t… if I turn tonight…” You shuddered, blinking slowly. “Give me a gun in the morning. I don’t want you guys to do it.”

“Y/N -”

You shook your head. “It’s not up for debate. I know some werewolves are peaceful, but this thing… this curse inside me… I can feel it, Dean, and it’s dark and, and I can’t take the risk of hurting y -” You swallowed, looking away for a second. “Hurting anyone.”

He nodded, watching you, and you could see the wetness in his eyes. “It’s going to work.”

“You don’t believe that,” you whispered.

Dean sighed, sitting down on the cot next to you. “I hope it does work,” he admitted, feeling like a failure in his skepticism. “I don’t think I could lose you.”

“Don’t,” you requested, quietly. “Don’t tell me unless it works. I don’t… if you say it now, I won’t believe it, and you’ll feel worse.” He fell quiet, not doing anything for a moment. Then he shifted, throwing an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his bigger frame, and you let him, closing your eyes to relish the comfort he offered. “I love you,” you murmured, quietly, half hoping he didn’t hear.

Dean smiled, lacing his fingers through yours and kissing the top of your head.

Neither of you spoke again, until Sam appeared in the doorway, smiling as he showed you the cure. “I’ve got it.”

You sat up, eyeing the needle warily. Dean was still holding your hand, and he squeezed his fingers against yours gently. “Where does it have to go?” you asked, and Sam shrugged.

“I don’t think it matters, but your arm will probably do.” He kneeled down in front of the cot, placing a first aid kit on the floor, and you shifted forward until you were sitting with him between your legs. Dean kept holding your hand, and you stuck out your other arm. Sam pushed your sleeve up, pulling the rubber tourniquet from the kit, wrapping it around your bicep until the veins bulged.

You looked away and squeezed your eyes shut - you’d always hated shots. 

Sam tapped your vein a few times, before aiming the needle at it and pushing. A whimper left your throat as the needle pierced your skin, and he pushed the plunger down. For a moment, it just felt like a flu shot, and you started to relax. Sam pushed the last of the cure into your blood and pulled the needle out.

Your arm started to tingle at the injection site, and Sam released the tourniquet, allowing the blood to flow. And the pain started.

It was like fire in your veins, spreading through to every extremity, so agonizing that you couldn’t scream. Your entire body tensed, and Dean felt it, concern on his face that turned to outright horror as you started to shake.

“Fuck,” Sam hissed, quickly lunging to drag you down against the thin mattress before you hit your head on the wall. “Dean, she’s having a seizure!”

Dean moved, holding you down with Sam so you didn’t hurt yourself, and it felt like a lifetime before it stopped. You were unconscious, and Dean looked up at Sam with genuine fear in his eyes. “That didn’t happen with Claire.”

Sam released his hold on you, standing up. “No,” he admitted, pulling the key to your restraints from his pocket. “We should take her upstairs. And one of us should stay with her until she wakes up.”

“What if she doesn’t wake up?” Dean asked, unsure if he wanted the answer.

Not that it mattered, because Sam didn’t have one.

*****

_ “Good morning, sweetheart,” Dean whispered, catching you around the waist, making you giggle. The kitchen around you was beautifully decorated in black and white tiling, screaming fifties design. The suit Dean wore was sharp pinstripe, with a colorful red tie; he wore his hair slicked back with a parting. _

_ He pulled back, spinning you on the spot. You twirled around for him, showing off the flared skirt and frilled blouse - you’d done your hair in the curls, the way he liked it. _

_ “You are beautiful,” he complimented, holding you close and pressing his lips against yours. “Marryin’ you was the best thing ever.” _

_ “Dean,” you whispered, the taste of him lingering on your lips. “I don’t think -” _

_ “Shush,” he ordered, grinning. “We’ve got all the time in the world -” _

Your head was pounding, and the bed you were laying on was softer than the cot you remembered. The sheets smelled like your favorite spray, and it made you want to hurl.

Or, the fact that you needed to hurl did.

Dean woke with a start as you puked over the side of the bed. He was there instantly, pulling your hair out of your eyes, soothing you as you retched up god-knows-what onto the floor. The bedroom door opened, and Sam appeared, concern on his face as he saw the state you were in.

“Could you run her a bath, Sam?” Dean requested, noticing that you were slowly stopping. “Probably do her some good.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam replied, smiling and ducking out of the room. You sat up, painful cramping in your belly, and it hurt to breathe.

“Did it work?” you asked.

“We think so,” Dean assured you, stroking hair out of your face. “You didn’t turn. We... we were worried because you had some kind of fit and we didn’t know if you were gonna wake up.”

You frowned, looking at him funny. “Huh. I don’t… I mean, I’m me, I remember me and… I was having a weird dream that we were in Grease or something. You were wearing pinstripes and calling me beautiful.” Dean smiled, cupping your cheek. 

“Well, pinstripe dream me ain’t wrong,” he said, and your frown deepened.

“Am I still dreaming?” you mused out loud. “Maybe I’m in a coma, and all I’m ever going to know is a delirium where Dean Winchester tells me I’m pretty.” He laughed at that, shaking his head. “And you’ll tell me it’s real because of course, you would, you’re a dream.”

“I’m very real,” he promised, pinching your arm lightly and you yelped, grabbing the spot he’d touched. “See? I mean, I can do other things to prove I’m real. Like, really tangible things, that involve ice cubes, whiskey, and my tongue in your belly button.”

You stared at him like he’d gone mad. “No, seriously, I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not,” Dean insisted. “And goddamn, if you hadn’t just puked everywhere, I would kiss the hell outta you to prove it.” He laughed, and you smiled back at him. “You told me not to tell you unless the cure worked. It’s worked. And I can’t go another day feeling like I do and not sharing it with you.”

“Feeling… like you do?” you repeated, and he nodded.

“Life without you isn’t an option for me anymore. This gig blows, we both know it does, but that’s the point. We both know. I don’t have to keep anything from you or pretend I’m something I’m not. You know me, better than I know me at times, and you don’t just find that with anyone.”

You shook your head slowly, gaping at him. “No, I’m dreaming. I have to be.”

Dean stood up, pulling you with him. “Sam told me something had to give. And this is it. I nearly lost you, Y/N.”

“You… really?” It was too much to wrap your head around. “You’re… you’re not joking or -”

He smirked, looking down with a brief shake of his head, before looking you dead in the eye. “Fuck it,” he growled, cupping your face and dragging you into a kiss, one that set your whole body aflame with desire. “I love you enough that I’ll kiss you before you’ve brushed your teeth.”

You giggled, relaxing into his hold. “I still think I might need persuading this isn’t a fantasy.”

Dean’s smirk only grew. “Oh baby, I’ll show you fantasy.”


End file.
